


Fall in Love at Firsts

by awkwardeye



Series: Second POV [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, POV Second Person, Variations on a theme, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7741327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardeye/pseuds/awkwardeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five scenarios revolving around falling in love with a stranger through a single sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sound

“Hello?”

A pause and you watch a single drop of rain roll down the window. It seems determined to keep a straight path, but curves, intersected by another drop. There's music playing in your room, not loud, but the house is quiet. It looks like it'll rain all day. You're home alone again.

“Hello.” Is it possible to love a voice?

The person on the other end clears their throat, mutters something, mutters it again without any more clarity. The third time, they cut their sentence short with a sigh. It's a clear, deep voice that sounds both authoritative and warm, so low and thick with a number of things. They ask for your father. He's not home. Is your mother home, then? No. Are there any adults? You consider yourself an adult. Most people would. The person becomes flustered and starts muttering again.

“Who are you?” they ask, and you can almost feel their burning cheeks.

“Who are you?” Why not throw the question back and see what happens?

“I'm… I'm in love with your voice.”

“That's not a name.”

“Kylo Ren.”

There's a sudden commotion and then a new voice saying, “This is the third time this week.”

 


	2. taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like imagining kylo making pretty, delicate things because he never would

The wrapper tears between his lithe fingers and he holds out the single sphere to you. His hands are bare, meticulous, and move with clear purpose. A small shop without much physical business smells of the sort of sweetness you never know until it's there, like the feeling behind a chaste first kiss. He's the owner, you think, desperate enough for business that he's trying to convince you to spend money by giving the product away for free. But he can't be too desperate; the other workers have been streaming in and out with boxes and without.

Why did you come here? Why did you stop in this tiny box of a shop? It had been an intangible pull, a short tug at your heart and then body. And now you're accepting chocolate from an odd chocolatier. You pause to inspect the design on the chocolate. You glance at the towering man in disbelief then back at the intricate design covering the surface and then at his hands that move with a certain knowledge.

“Go on. Try it,” the man says, his brown eyes gleaming.

His dark hair is pulled back, but a few strands fall onto his forehead. The intensity of his gaze coupled with the general menace of an adult his size makes him seem out of place in the quaint store, nestled among displays of chocolate molded into an array of shapes. He doesn't look like he belongs anywhere near sweet things, not with that scowl.

The chocolate is light and melts on your tongue. You run your tongue along the surface, enjoying the way it sits on your tongue, making your mouth sticky. It's not dry like the store bought stuff, and the smoothness of it seems to amplify its taste. Your heart slows and you're seeing stars. Oh, what you would give to live only tasting this. You stare at the man with wide eyes, overcome with an inexplicable giddiness. He's an angel, he must be.

“It's good, isn't it?”

“Euphoric.” You're enamored.


End file.
